A Rêveur's Tale
by Nocturnal Introvert
Summary: Enter into the magical world of le Cirque de Rêves. You are a follower of the circus, a dreamer, and you have followed the circus as it arrived without warning once again. One-shot.


Your head is spinning and your heart is racing as you stand in line. This moment defines you. No matter how many times you visit the circus, each time is special and unique. The line is long, but moving steadily. You know it's worth the wait. Other patrons seem to be holding their breath, highly anticipating what is soon to come. You can make out a few red scarves and other subtle splashes of color against the black and white in the line ahead, other rêveurs. Some only visit the circus when it's nearby, other follow it from city to city like a fleeting dream. They are all completely devoted to the magnificence that is le Cirque de Rêves. It defines them, just as it defines you. It's like nothing else.

Finally, it's your turn to purchase your ticket. The woman behind the counter smiles as she sees you, dismissing your money with a wave of her hand before handing you a ticket. This is one of your many trips to the circus this year, as you have been a devoted follower since the grand opening day. The words of a certain clockmaker had caused you to fall even deeper in love with the circus, and you can't even imagine your life before it.

You enter the courtyard, excitement pulsing through your veins within your first step inside. It's like visiting another world. The scent of caramel and popcorn wafts through the air around you, mixed with warmth from the glowing white bonfire and excitement from other patrons. As you glance around, trying to decide which tent to visit first, you think you see a brief glimmer of a familiar set of eyes. You dismiss it as a figment of your imagination, for the magician you thought to have seen has been deceased for many years now. You wander around a bit, nodding at fellow rêveurs and taking in all the wonder that is the Circus of Dreams. You stop briefly in front of a pair of black and white clad twins with shocking red hair as they finish their act, marmalade kittens on their shoulders. You applaud with the small, gathered crowd before entering a nearby tent: the illusionist, your very favorite act.

As you enter the illusionist's tent, you notice a man in the back, a young fellow with striking green eyes and a bowler hat. He is staring at the illusionist with such adoration and intensity in his gaze that it sends a shiver down your spine. You choose to sit in a chair close to the center, right in the midst of the illusionist's act. The entrance to the tent disappears, and a woman with long, dark hair rises from a seat near you. As she walks to the center of the tent, she removes her jacket and throws it into the air. The black jacket transforms into a beautiful, jet-black raven midair. It caws softly and soars overhead before landing in the illusionists waiting palm, suddenly becoming a black jacket once again on contact. The illusionist smiles and a few people applaud in delight. The rest, obviously first time visitors, just stare in awe. You hear a quiet gasp behind you and turn to see the man in the bowler hat, his chair floating a few feet off the ground. Soon each chair is lifted by an invisible force, and the audience is rearranged. You are now right beside the man in the hat, directly in front of the illusionist. He is staring at her like she is the most amazing thing in the world, grinning ear to ear.

As the illusionist's act ends, you leave through the suddenly reappearing entrance to the tent. You can't help but notice that the man you sat beside stays behind.

Your other adventures include a complex maze of fluffy clouds, a lush garden made entirely of ice, and a surprisingly accurate fortune teller. She tells you your dedication to the circus is not in vain, for an exciting opportunity will soon be at hand. Just as dawn is about to arrive, your exhaustion finally sets in. Leaving the circus is always so sorrowful, returning to the outside world just doesn't compare to the splendor of the circus. With the fortune teller's words still swimming through your mind, you take one last glance at the clock (if such a masterpiece can even be called merely a clock) before leaving. With the warmth of the fire still on your skin, the taste of caramel on your tongue, and a feeling of excitement still remaining in your gut, you wander back to your hotel, promising to revisit the circus as soon as night falls the next day. It's almost as if you felt more awake, more alive, while you were still within the circus. As soon as you left, you could feel the spark of excitement begin to fade. You know that wherever the circus may lead you next, you are sure to follow. However, you don't realize that soon the circus will begin to fall apart behind the scenes. You can feel it, like the calm before the storm. But in your exhaustion you dismiss it as nothing more than sorrow from leaving your favorite place. You know you are no more than a dreamer, following your dreams from city to city. The circus itself almost seems like a dream in all its entirety. It's so full of contradictions. So constant, yet so new each time; so vivid and real, yet too magnificent to be a part of reality; so colorless and drab, yet so beautiful and full of life and color. Everything in the circus is so full of passion and emotion, and though much of it is a secret to you, the emotions reach you as well. As you slowly drift to sleep, your mind is full of thoughts of the circus. You can hardly wait to continue to chase your dream into the next city.


End file.
